The Dawn of Evangelion ENG
by Goldfield
Summary: Since Second Impact, rumors spread about the mysterious organization called SEELE. When it was created? What does it want? The answers are in this document describing the trajectory of this group since the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls, in 1947.
1. Genesis

_Author's notes__:_

_1 – My first NGE fanfic. There was a lot of research, both in-universe and historic, but yet there may be some mistakes. I apologize in advance for any mistakes._

_2 – Concerning the continuity: I used elements from all Evangelion continuities. The original anime receives most focus, but there are elements from the manga, games and the new Rebuild movies in the plot. I've been choosing according to the necessities of the story I wanted to tell, but, at the end, everything will make sense. This story is a prequel of the Evangelion franchise._

_3 – As Hideaki Anno said, Evangelion is a sci-fi story that uses symbolism and religious allegories, and it shouldn't be taken serious__ly__, not beyond this. This fanfic supports this premise. If you feel offended with religious references outside the original context, I recommend you stop now._

_4 – Translator's note: Translated to the English by RandomNumber53216, and proofread by Raax the Ice Warrior. I felt that such a story deserved to have an English edition, because of its scope and there are few fanfics that deal directly with SEELE. This is a story I would be interested in sharing with more people. I also use English as a second language._

* * *

><p><strong>THE DAWN OF EVANGELION<strong>

"_Evolutionism is, without doubt, useful to make ordered observations of the past; if we want to delimit the way to the future with indicative signals, it must be expected that a new generation, capable to take decisions, face the great experiment that, while proceeding, starts to refute the__ir__ very own evolutionism."_

_(Martin Buber)_

**Genesis**

_Palestine, 1947_

_He_ definitely had a sound sleep.

The engines of the airplane barked as loud as hellhounds, however they weren't able to wake him up. It was an admirable feat: they flew in a Douglas C-47 Skytrain, an American plane, used to transport paratroopers behind the enemy lines in the war that ended two years ago. The thingamajig wasn't built to give comfort to its passengers. Besides the noise, it didn't have lined chairs, only two pews, short and hard beside the windows, in each side of the plane's corridor. Besides the lack of comfort, the disposition of the pews obliged the members of the passengers to sit side to side with the crew, no matter how annoying they were.

_He _could say this of one of them. Incidentally, this was the reason why he woke up: Colonel Lorenz had no indoor voice. Especially when the topic mattered to him. He delved into an animated talk – granted, it was more like a monologue, since the other occupant, with an empty expression, didn't seem to be paying any attention at him…

"Deceitful ideologies are decimating humanity. All over the world, _Homo sapiens_ try to achieve the longed last stage of evolution, in which he'd reach the fullness of spirit and the perfect synchrony with the universe. The ways those limited minds tried to reach it are only infantile efforts at best. Did eliminating minorities, the so-called 'inferior races', in concentration camps, to purify the so-called superior 'Aryan race', create any result? Did the imposition of a forced division of goods and land, the attempt to create the Soviet 'New Man', without egoism, work? National socialism, communism… Hitler, Stalin… All of them, infantile fools. False prophets from the hope of the last step of mankind in Earth."

Actually, Lorenz spat on the plate he had just eaten off. _He_ knew of the colonel's past. They said he was one of the greatest butchers of Auschwitz and one of the most dedicated supporters of the Nazi science, even supporting research with human subjects. He escaped from the Nuremberg trials, shrouded in mysterious circumstances. However, it was strange, because he didn't stop to make public apparitions, while his most reserved friends had gotten away for definitive exiles in South America. Anyway, he lived long enough to organize that trip to the Middle East. But _Gospeller_ started to muse with himself if it would be better for the colonel to be hanged. At least, it would shut his trap.

Trying to ignore Lorenz's ramblings, he stared at the female member of the expedition. In contrast with the old Nazi, she was a symbol of levity, elegance and perfection. The buttoned khaki shirt was a good combination with the desert climate and landscape, and they failed to obstruct the beautiful and advantaged bosom. The pants were of the same color, coming down to her knees, letting it show the lovely white of her legs. Leather boots dressed her feet, but _he_ was incapable to imagine them as not sweet and firm – a contradictory combination that appeared to be an accurate description of her character; by the few words they had exchanged. Straight, red hair enveloped her head, reclined to the window of the airplane, covering half of her face. _He_ felt praised when she had chosen to sit in his front, on the other side of the corridor. The distant look, however, showed she was concerned with other issues, oblivious to courtship.

Lianna Zeppelin Sohryu, Ph.D: An archeologist of the Ahnenerbe, the organization created by the Nazis to seek throughout the world vestiges of the purported superiority of the Aryan race. On the other hand, she was involved in other kinds of work.

And this was his entire pleasure.

Turning to the colonel, Gospeller noticed he had made a little interval in his discourse, perhaps tired of talking and frustrated by thirst – as his sweat-drenched uniform showed. Taking advantage of the situation and willing to change the topic for something more amicable, since Lorenz would eventually return to his non-stop ramblings, he whispered, pointing to the scientist. "It's an interesting blend of names, isn't it?"

"For sure..." the old man answered, with a malicious smirk, "From what I know, a Japanese diplomat traveled to the Germany, in '36, to sign the Anti-Comintern Pact, or something like that, which turned them into our allies. In this trip, he fell in love with the doctor, when she was one of Ribbentrop's secretaries, the foreign affairs minister… the two of them met more times, before the war started and married. Her husband died in Hiroshima, but the wife kept the oriental surname after that."

He nodded, staring at her once more. Was she thinking about her deceased husband? No… she was a strong woman, someone capable to overcome such a loss. She couldn't be worried about him, over and over; yet she decided to keep his surname. The surname must be a homage.

For a moment, _he_ realized he was judging persons without knowing them better. This turned out to be the source of mishappenings in the past.

"You don't seem to be excited with the discovery, Mr. Gospeller…" Lorenz murmured, visibly incommoded, "You've barely spoken since we took off."

"I just don't feel comfortable with this place... this damned region has been disputed over ever since the beginning of time. Jews, Christians, Muslims… And now even the UN wants to rip the territory in half, dividing it between the Jews and Arabs. This is just a huge bomb, colonel, just waiting to a spark to ignite it and explode. And we come here only to dig a hole in the middle of the desert."

Lorenz sighed and, for the first time since he met Gospeller, two years ago, he showed irritation. He showed it by snorting like a bull, while reclining in the seat, turning his stare to nowhere in particular, hands on his knees, reminding Gospeller of a German Buddha, and he said, in a low yet serious tone.

"Mr. Gospeller, you know the reason why my organization and I looked for your bank. Unfortunately the war depleted almost all of our resources, and obtaining new ones is vital for this undertaking. You trusted in us, and we trusted in you. There is no reason to demerit this trip!"

"I just think the trust level is not mutual... you told me almost nothing about this organization. I don't care whether is the 'Fourth Reich' or the 'SSS', but I need to have your faces known, Colonel Lorenz! More faces, besides yours!"

The old military man sighed again, this time it took longer, before returning to a straight position and answering, "And I assure you there are faces you wouldn't like to see. Like your country's authorities, which may or may not discover that your bank keeps depots from fugitive Nazis, and I'm sure your Jewish heritage wouldn't help at all in this topic..."

That man was a bastard. A Bastard with a capital B.

"I just hope to win something over this..." Gospeller murmured, resigned.

"And you will! Everyone will! Do you remember from what I talked about, the evolutionary dilemma? About Hitler, about Stalin? Nothing that mankind can create will be the real answer to this dilemma. The true solution is already in the Earth, buried in the sands of time, in this desert. Now we just need to find it."

The banker agreed, nodding his head, without any hint of sincerity. Lorenz really was a bastard. A crazy bastard.

At that moment, Lianna straightened up from the window, turning to the two men, with no definite expression on her face.

"The landing track is visible. We'll disembark soon."

* * *

><p>If it was hot inside the C-47, from the outside it looked like an open oven. The climate was good, blue skies without clouds, however Gospeller never craved for the rain like before. In a few seconds, he regretted his thought, because storms in the desert weren't actually good events.<p>

They exited the plane by an improvised stairway, stepping on the landing track – or better, so-called landing track, it was just a strip of asphalt in the middle of nowhere. It didn't even have a control tower. The pilot who brought them there should be a really skilled one. Lorenz mentioned something about him being a veteran from the Luftwaffe.

The harsh climate obliged the three travelers to wear their respective hats. Gospeller took a last look to the doctor's beautiful hair, the reflection of the sun burned through her red hair, before being covered by the accessory. They came to that wild place searching for a treasure, but the banker believed he had already found it, way before when they embarked in Tel Aviv.

He looked at his side. Next to the plane, a military British jeep was parked, with three men on board. Dark skin, beards, two of them wearing turbans. They were dwellers of the region, without doubt. The colonel walked to them, talking with his companions, "They will be the guides of our expedition to Qumran's site. They know the area by heart. With luck, we'll be there at the sunset."

Suddenly, Doctor Sohryu took the forward, passing next to Gospeller and grabbing on one of Lorenz's arms from behind. The former Nazi turned to her, surprised, the expression at his face capable to castigate someone just by looking.

"Sorry, _he__r__r colonel_, but the situation is unacceptable," Lianna said, "We can't just arrive and investigate the site."

"What do you mean?" he replied, indignant, "I thought your preliminary analysis was enough!"

"They were just to confirm the possible location of the artifacts. But now, since we're here, we must make a detailed study of the climate and the situation of the region, and to know the inhabitants. We can't simply break into the cave and take away what there's inside it. Besides, you must remember this territory still is part of the British mandate. If we remove something without authorization, we'll have to deal with the consequences."

"This doesn't matter to me, doctor. We have a good estimation of where the artifacts are. That's enough!"

"Archeologists don't work that way, colonel."

"You worked for years to an organization that forged proofs of the supposed historic superiority of the Aryan race. Don't come to me on how to give lessons on how archeologists work!" And he let the woman, nervous, walk over to the Arabs.

Gospeller just observed the scene, mouth shut. Once more, Lianna's strong personality turned to life, even her delicate body seemed to tell otherwise. He turned his attention to Lorenz. The Colonel talked to the natives, in an amicable tone, making them to break out in laughter. Certain he promised them enormous sums of money, in exchange for a job well done. Gospeller's money.

He returned after a few instants, pointing to the vehicle that one of the Arabs jumped out, to give space to the new occupants and ordered, "Let's go!"

* * *

><p>The desert seemed to have no end, limited by rocky walls as arid as the plain terrains. The landscape looked like a great cemetery, build for giants made of rock, destroyed in forgotten times and having their last agony, its spasm reflected in landslides. It was almost a miracle to have a conserved road cutting through that region. It seemed it waited for them. When they climbed by a slope, the surprise welcomed them: in a long distance below them, in a depression, they saw a huge extension of clear water, on its opposite side could be seen a great lake as well.<p>

"The Dead Sea." Lorenz presented it.

Gospeller, who was already thirsty since his canteen was almost empty, felt even worse upon imagining the salt at his mouth. The view was splendid, though. He wished to see it for a little longer, but the Arab driver turned the wheel to the northwest. They were getting closer.

That was an admirable yet unforgiving place and it gave name to the artifacts they were looking for. A discovery reserved for a few persons that Lorenz, representing his mysterious organization, sought to be the first to seize: the Dead Sea Scrolls.

Nobody could say what exactly they were. They only knew that they were ancient documents crafted by the ancient Hebrew communities of that region, found by chance by natives while they walked by the caves around there. The discoverers could never imagine the true value of the findings and sold them for insignificant prices to Bedouins and other merchants. Three of them were acquired for less than thirty dollars by a random buyer. At least there weren't reports, according to Lorenz, that the manuscripts were used as goat food or turned into toys – a sad destiny for other documents in different parts of the world. Although, since their discovery hadn't called the attention of great specialists or international institutions, the colonel's group could acquire them without problems. Perhaps they wouldn't have another opportunity like that and Lorenz didn't want to waste it.

What was the true interest in those manuscripts? Gospeller still couldn't make out anything, except for that fallacious part about "evolution". But it was very probable they needed time to investigate the artifacts. According to their informants, the Arabs, upon finding the caves, lots of them, would have removed only a very small part of them. And, to have been remained hidden for such a long time, the Hebrews should have really good motives.

Soon, the road ended. The guides, in the front seat, pointed to a big rocky area, being hard to discern what was rock and what was sand. The sky started to turn red, announcing the imminent sunset. The Arab that was driving pointed to a wall, three hundred meters away, in which, taking a good look, an opening could be seen, leading to a dark hole. He spoke something in his natural language. Lorenz, who could understand him, immediately translated.

"It was there his father-in-law found the first scrolls."

It shouldn't be hard to reach the entry: the rocks in the way formed some kind of stair, a rigged stair. The colonel took the first steps, ordering the guides to stand still. However, his two companions followed behind.

"It's almost night, do you really want to go now?" Lianna asked, with a visible hesitation.

"Even if I have to sleep in the urns, we'll find those manuscripts today!" the tireless colonel replied, his voice echoing through the cave.

* * *

><p>They reached the opening in the rock in a few minutes, after walking through the steep and slippery way, without any great problems. It was dark inside the cave, nothing could be seen inside, only for a few meters, where the faint sun cast its last rays. There was a curious smell, which reminded him of dust, however not only that. A smell of an ancient time, a secret. An invitation to discover that long forgotten place.<p>

Lorenz, leading the march, stopped at the entrance. He grabbed a colored stone from his uniform that was immediately recognized by the archeologist: silex. Gospeller, being a layman in these issues, just stared at the funny colored rock. With the other hand, the colonel picked a piece of metal, rubbing it against the rock. Thus, he created fire, by the ancient method.

Lifting the torch, he finally moved forward on the cave, with his both companions following him closely, since it was the only source of illumination.

The cave was lengthy, it delved deep in the rock, with few turning points and becoming so narrow in some places they had to struggle to pass. Gospeller was never an adventure-prone man, and the cave contrasted with the idea he had of isolated caves: he imagined humid environments, dripping through the stalactites in the roof. But the current cave was arid, like the desert in the outside, a land of wall and dry air constricting his lungs. The stumbles in the way also didn't contribute to making it a happy trip.

The way became a slight descent, until it finally finished. The torch at Lorenz's hands showed an area, much more ample, like a subterranean atrium. The banker expected to see hieroglyphs or another ancient symbols painted on the walls, however there was nothing on them, just the temporal erosion. The glow of the fire focused for a while Lianna's face: the fascination was evident, it looked like all the divergences concerning to Lorenz didn't matter anymore.

The colonel lowered the torch. In the corners on the floor, there were many urns and ceramic jars, shut tight. Through holes in the wall, courtesy by the visit of ancient Bedouins or just the time, it was possible to see the documents, in parchments or papyrus.

"All this time..." the German murmured, marveled, "All this knowledge stored here, for so long, just waiting for someone to claim it..."

Although they could see clearly his face, his companions saw an indecisive expression at Lorenz's face. He didn't know where to start. There were so many scrolls and so many caves to be analyzed… however, when he turned the torch to his left, to explore that side of the cave, soon he saw something that made him tremble. In a wall, right above shorter vases, there was a figure fixed in the rock, in the form of two furrows meeting each other. A cross.

Unpredictably, the colonel fell to his knees in reverence. It looked very strange to Gospeller to see a religious Nazi. The doctor, on the other hand, was too focused in the archeological finding to get concerned over his weird behavior.

Still prostrated, Lorenz crawled and carefully removed the lid of one the vases under the symbol. After centuries, the scrolls had again met the air of the cave.

"Take care, _herr colonel_," Lianna warned, extending her arm in pre-emption, "The manuscripts are very old and very frail."

"A sign..." the colonel sighed, taking the eyes to the cross, illuminated by the torch, "It can be only a sign."

With the free hand, he slowly took one of the scrolls. He put it on the ground, opening with the maximum of care. Doctor Sohryu leaned beside him, afraid that his anxiety could destroy the document. Besides, she wanted to take a closer look at it too. Only Gospeller remained away, covered by the shadows.

Both Germans examined the manuscript. There was some kind of carving: nine spheres connected by straight lines, forming the figure of an irregular hexagon, with another sphere in the lower part, linked just by a single straight line. A smile formed at the colonel's face while he said.

"The scheme of the Kabbalah. The ten levels, or _sephirah_, that the power of God flows, to reach his sons, and sustain the Universe!" he explained, pointing from the hexagon, sphere by sphere, up to the last circle in the lower part, "The Tree of Life."

"Hebrew philosophy..." Lianna talked in low voice, more interested in the archeological value of the document than its meaning.

"You are wrong, mistress. This is not just theology. The ancient Hebrews knew what they talked about. The Kabbalah is the bridge between men and God. By the same way the divine power is irradiated by the ten _sephirah_, the cabbalist philosopher thought it was possible to make the inverse way. That mortals could equal themselves to God, obtain the maximum knowledge of Creation! For keeping the key to this true, its defenders were persecuted and executed through the centuries. But they hid their teachings here, far away from their enemies."

"Suppose I believe you, colonel..." Gospeller intervened, not really believing in anything he just said, "So it's possible that your organization suspected the location of the manuscripts to be in Palestine, right? Even before the Arabs stumbled on this cave?"

"We had no idea of its location. We just knew of the existence of this shelter of cabbalist knowledge. Only few persons in the world knew of this, very few. For this reason, we manipulated Hitler. That son of a bitch was fascinated by the occult, Mr. Gospeller. We goaded on him to search through all of Europe for the Jewish philosophers, the last guardians of this knowledge. After we obtained the information over these caves, everyone who knew of this was systematically eliminated. Hitler, at his bunker, and his generals, at Nuremberg, were some of the last ones."

He made a short pause and added:

"Would you believe me if I say that the extermination of Jews didn't have as its objective the 'ethnical cleansing', Mr. Gospeller? Knowledge is power. It always has been."

The banker started to tremble. For him, everything was nothing but stories told by an old madman. However Lorenz talked with so much conviction, so much impetus, that a single spark of belief enkindled his thoughts. And if the organization that man was said to represent was capable of manipulating even the Nazis, he was entrenched in something much worse than he could have imagined.

"Doctor Sohryu, help me to take these jars to the jeep," the German asked, getting up, "We're leaving."

"But colonel, even if it's your esoteric interests or not, we didn't analyze not even a tenth of the manuscripts," the young archeologist protested, "The other documents may also have precious information too!"

"These are all I need. I traveled here by something a Polish professor said in Auschwitz, my dear. 'The truth is next to a lifeless sea, buried under the sign of the Messiah'. The Bedouins just confirmed the suspicion. And the figure is at the wall, so anyone can see it."

Suddenly a metallic sound echoed through the cave. The clicking sound of a cocked gun. Lianna turned around, scared, in contrast with Lorenz's calmness. They looked at Gospeller, sweating and trembling, pointing a Colt pistol to the colonel.

"Playtime is over, Lorenz!" he said, not diverting his anxious stare from him, "Whether this is true or not... you Nazi pig, your life will end here!"

"Well, well, do you actually know how to use this pistol?" the German chortled, "Did you bring it here because you were planning to kill me from the beginning?"

"Shut up!" the banker cried, so loud it looked like the cave would go down, "You insinuated my people, my culture, died for you and the Nazi's only to get the location of this cave… is this it? If this is true, you will burn in the fires of hell, Lorenz! With Hitler and the others!"

"And now your Jewish heritage surfaces, huh? However you're wrong, Gospeller. I won't go to hell. On the contrary. This day is the first step of my journey to the Paradise!"

A shot was heard, making Lianna scream and take her hands to her ears.

However, it wasn't fired by the banker. He remained still, immobile, for a few seconds, in a terrifying moment of expectation… until tumbling forwards, with a red mark at his back.

Lorenz illuminated the entrance of the cave. Next to it, still pointing a Japanese Nambu pistol, there was man in a khaki uniform, dark and short hair, like the night, and oriental looks. He had a well-built body, the shirt partially hiding the big muscles of his arms.

"I thought you'd never come, Rokubungi," said the colonel, smiling to the newcomer.

"I didn't think the banker was a threat," he answered, in English, heavy in Japanese accent.

"And it wasn't. But your intervention was welcomed."

"I already took care of the Arabs. They won't be a problem."

"Excellent. Go back and make sure the area remains free for our exit."

"_Hai_."

The assassin returned by the rocky corridor, his steps being heard as they fade away. Then Lorenz turned to Sohryu, who was perplexed. She had a fixed stare at Gospeller's body, without blinking until she noticed the approximation of the colonel. She stepped back, scared, tears rolling over her face.

"A-are you going to kill me too?" she asked, crying.

"I was educated to be a gentleman, mistress. And will do so only if you turn against me. Besides, I will need your help."

"And why should I help you?" she exclaimed, her nervousness building up, "A maniac follower of a fanatic religious sect!"

"I think this definition to be overly simplistic. I seek for the common good. All that humanity will gain with the truth contained in these manuscripts. As well… A little girl in Tokyo could get seriously hurt if her mother refused to collaborate in the studies…"

"No, Minna!"

The daughter she had with her deceased husband was already four-years-old. She left her with his relatives, in the Japanese capital, before going to that expedition. Now that damned colonel threatened her.

"You can't..."

"I _will_, my dear, if you refuse to collaborate. I believe, it can't be that bad. I am a superior more complacent than Adolf Hitler."

Lorenz then grabbed some vases containing the scrolls, going to the outside, ordering, "Let's go."

Still trembling, Lianna saw she had no options but to follow him.

In outside, the sun was already gone and the darkness of the night covered Palestine while the first stars shone. Taking even more care in the return, since they brought the manuscripts and there was little light, both Germans reached the jeep after a while. Letting the jars in the vehicle, Sohryu struggled to not look at the bodies of the guides, next to the car. The Japanese, responsible for the deaths, waited for them, standing still, beside the car. She looked at him for a while, wondering what would be the motivations of that man, how he could be so full of coldness, before taking a seat. Lorenz also embarked, taking a last look at the scrolls.

"We can go." He ordered.

The Japanese took the wheel, conducting them by the same road. He had followed them, and knew the way. Lianna kept her head lifted, staring at the starry sky. Among many stars… she didn't know which of them could represent her uncertain fate.


	2. Exodus

**Exodus**

_Nanking, Japanese-occupied China, 1937_

_He_ sat in a cold and dirty prison cell. The walls had only one opening to the outer world; a caged window by which timid sunrays entered in and lit the floor, besides the heavy metal door. Seeking to stay away from the light, a young Japanese man, with short and dark hair, drummed the fingers of one hand against the other, sitting in a corner. He wore a worn-out Japanese military uniform, covered with marks of mud, his skin was also bruised; indicating punches, kicks and blows of rifle gunstocks.

Suddenly, someone pounded on the door, the iron feeling its repercussions. One, two times. The prisoner didn't move.

"Rokobungi Takeo?" asked a masculine voice, with some sort of accent he couldn't make out.

"Go away!" The prisoner used his English skills, still with heavy accent but the education his mother imposed on him was used for good, hoping the man would comprehend him.

Silence hung for a few moments. The mysterious visitor insisted.

"I want to see the sergeant that was detained for insubordination: Rokobungi Takeo."

He hadn't given up. It would be better to talk to him instead, at least then he'd go away afterward.

"Alright..." the prisoner agreed.

The sound of the door being opened echoed through the area, unlocked by the warden. This was the first person Takeo saw, a former colleague in the Army, and he looked at him with disdain. After him, he saw the man who had called him. It was a white man, blonde, wearing a Nazi uniform. Rokobungi had seen some of them before, posing at embassies and consultants as a representative of a 'superior race'. He didn't sympathize that much with them, though.

Making a sign to the warden, the German allowed the door to be locked, showing no fear to stay alone with a supposed criminal.

"What do you want?" Takeo asked.

"You gave a good spectacle outside..." the visitor said, ironically, "I've heard of violent sieges, but this one managed to top them all. Even a Nazi like Johannes Rabe felt pity for the Chinese population and is offering shelter to the survivors, because of what you've done. Our _pogroms_ are child's play compared with what you did here in Nanking."

"The Chinese soldiers surrendered without fight," the Japanese man spoke, "According to the Bushido, there is no mercy to cowards. The high command ordered the executions."

"But you, Sergeant Rokobungi, you have refused to comply with their orders. You refused to shoot unarmed men and rape their women. Thus you were arrested."

The prisoner's patience was wearing thin. For a moment, it seemed as if he going to get up and punch the Nazi, but he contained himself. He didn't want to make the situation even worse.

"Do you come here to discuss who kills more, Hitler or the Tennō?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"No, sergeant. It's just that your actions have called my attention. Listen... the world is in direction of a new World War. The countries will fight once more, including ours. At the end of the conflict, perhaps the most destructive ever saw, a new world will emerge from the ashes. A world that will not have space for Hitlers or Hirohitos. Only good people compromised with the evolution of the human soul. Like me," he pointed to him for emphasis, "And you. Someone who didn't want to massacre the innocent Chinese."

"You know me little to say this with such certain…"

"I've been reading about the Rokobungi family. Stubborn and obstinate men, perhaps something in the blood. Your father was also arrested for insubordination, during the war with Russia, right? Don't end up disgraced like him, Takeo. I can free you from this den. I can give you wings!"

The sergeant stared at the German for almost a minute. His stare apparently trying to discern what would be his real intentions, behind that big words and pompous aspect. After that, he got up, dusting himself off, almost ignoring the fact he would be needing new clothes and said, "How shall I call you, _Hikaru Geruman_?"

"Lorenz. Colonel Heinrich Lorenz."

The Nazi extended a hand. The Japanese man, after hesitating for a while, accepted it.

* * *

><p><em>Tel Aviv, British Mandate for Palestine, 1947<em>

The wind lifted her red hair and whipped them in the air.

Doctor Sohryu stooped over the wall of the hotel's balcony, admiring the nocturne landscape of Tel Aviv. By that time, with the lights on, everything inspired tranquility. However the young woman knew that soon the entire country would erupt in war for possession of the territory. Lorenz had assured her they would be gone before things got worse, though. The fact that the colonel started to analyze the contents of the manuscript seemed to show the opposite. If only she could see her daughter…

"Lianna, can you come here?" Heinrich called from his room, "I need your help. I'm good with these things, but I'm not an expert…"

Sighing, Sohryu returned inside.

Lorenz had already opened all the scrolls over a big table in the room. He had paid for the most expensive one and it was very useful to his purposes. Besides, the resources; which came from the bank of the recently deceased Gospeller, seemed to be unlimited.

Lianna walked to the table. The old man was focused on one of the manuscripts. He murmured, "This is Hellenistic Hebrew… one or two hundred years before Christ. It's not as old as I'd expected."

"Can you read it?" the redheaded leaned over the document.

"Barely. I can only identify some random words. I believe you can help me."

"Let's see..."

The colonel dragged the chair away to make space for her. A former Ahnenerbe researcher, _and _specialist in Hebrew language. How ironic… but it was also perfect. He chose well.

The archaeologist raced through the text many times. Read and reread. Her brows arched and her face twisted many times. She seemed to not comprehend the inscriptions very well.

"It doesn't surprise me that you only understood some words, colonel," she said, after minutes of examination, "This is not only in Hebrew."

"What do you mean?" the man came closer.

"I can't explain how or why," she continued, shaking her head, "But this scroll is a complete mess. There are characters from more than one alphabet. See these," she pointed, "They belong to the Sumerian language, from Mesopotamia, centuries before. See these ones? Demotic characters, Ancient Egypt. It could be said that the Hebrews assimilated it due to their time in Egypt, as slaves, but take a look on these ones. I was part of a scientific expedition to Central America in 39, colonel. I have no doubts. They are Mayan characters. From the other side of the Atlantic Ocean."

"Holy god!" Lorenz didn't lie with his surprise, "But how can this be?"

"I don't know, but I wouldn't discard the hypothesis of falsification. We must seek methods to analyze how old these scrolls are, based on the material they were written. We can't do this here. We don't have resources."

"I understand..." The German lifted his hand to his chin, thinking about all of this. In any case, they wouldn't attain anything in this hotel room. Lorenz's organization would need to furnish resources to date the documents. Who knew if Lianna could see her daughter in the meantime?

At that moment, the door opened. The sinister Japanese, Rokobungi, appeared. He wore black and this only helped to make him look ominous, Sohryu thought.

"Urgent phone for you, sir." He said, curtly.

Heinrich exchanged an anxious look with the doctor and exited, his bodyguard following suit, closing the door. Alone, the woman asked herself if the problems had only just begun for her…

* * *

><p><em>New Mexico, United States of America, 1947<em>

The vehicle stopped in the middle of the asphalted road. The driver, a young man in military attire, with a round helmet with the designation 'MP', looked to the vast plain at the left of the road, a field covered in tall grass extending by a fence to the horizon, an area dominated by farms and ranches. He turned to the passenger's seat where another man, equally dressed, turned to him with a confused look.

"From now on, we're going on foot," the driver told him, "Warn the others."

The subordinate nodded, exiting the truck's cabin by his side door. While he walked on the side road to the rest of the convoy's vehicles, he passed by a sign. It possessed the inscription 'Roswell - 40 miles'.

The convoy, which was composed by members of the 509th Air Force Bomber Squad, stopped at that point of the road its members proceeded on foot, jumping the fence on the left, advancing through the grassed plain. After being called from Roswell, since it was the closest city to the incident's site, the detachment's official mission was to investigate some scraps found by ranchers some days early. But the presence of a major with them, along with high-ranking officers, showed an excessive preoccupation with the object of the mission.

The truck's driver, who led the group, approached a man in the middle of the road, a colonel, judging by the decoration. The name was Williams, if he was not mistaken. He saluted his superior and said, "At your service, sir!"

"Sergeant Terrance, help the major to coordinate the searches through the field. And please, don't let anyone know the instructions, only the ones who need to know. I shouldn't be here. If the high-command were aware of this, they will start to ask questions."

"Yes sir!"

The subordinate went away, leaving the colonel practically alone, next to the vehicles. Through the plains, hundreds of soldiers spread out, some using maps. All of them had spotlights, the rays of light swept through the grass in the night, creating curious specters. Making the search in broad light would make things easier for them, but the last thing they wanted was to call attention. Especially after the initial rumors about what they had found there.

The colonel, who remained still for a while, observing the soldiers invading the field, disappearing in the darkness of the night, had his solitude broken by the major, also coming from the air base. Folding his hands behind his back, he walked to his fellow, head down, murmuring, "What was divulgated about what they were searching for?"

"Only the same as what that farmer, Brazel, knows," the colonel replied, without even turning to the newcomer, "Strange scraps appeared by the region. Brazel and the family retrieved most of them, gathering at his barn. They didn't seem to understand that those things are stranger than they thought… My men had already emptied the barn and took the scraps to the base, Dickson. Those things aren't part of any machine, they can't be…"

"Someone else had contact with the artifacts?"

"Besides Brazel, there was another incident, but due to the circumstances, we covered the case as soon as it reached the police. The daughter of another farmer, Mary Morgan; fourteen, disappeared in the same night that supposedly one of our fighters shot that thing down. It may have a link; however, nothing was disclosed, to not alarm anyone. After gathering it all, we'll say it's a meteorological balloon or a Soviet spy plane."

"And what they will do with the remains?"

"We'll send them to our complex in Nevada. It was built before the war, for this kind of thing, you know. Doctor Langley will get a lot of fun analyzing those things. But we've just found scraps. The core is missing, the ship itself, I mean, whatever it is. For this reason we sent those men." Finishing the talk, the two officers returned to the plain, imagining what their soldiers could discover.

Corporal Gardner hated tall grass. The stomp of his boots on the vegetation brought him bad memories… Guadalcanal, the cursed war with the Japanese in the Pacific. Almost lost him an arm. He was sure the weather in New Mexico was very different from the tropical jungle, but that annoying symphony of low noises was almost driving him to madness! To make things worse, they were in the dark. Directing their lights to all sides, almost randomly, searching for scraps that even their superiors didn't know exactly what they were!

"Hey, Gardner!" called one of his nearby companions, pointing to some shrubs on their right, "I think I saw something!"

Almost by a blink of eyes, the corporal turned his light to the indicated point. Just then he noticed the awful stench that permeated that place's air. Perhaps his own apprehension blinded his senses and he wanted it to return and block them again. Only once had he felt such a stench, when he was a child, sneaking into his father's slaughterhouse. The strong odor of bloody meat, almost starting its decomposition, had made him run away and vomit his lunch in a trashcan. Now the same stink entered his nose, his face twisting in a scowl.

"It must be a dead animal," another soldier wondered, "A cow, I don't know..."

The light of the lantern met the finding, which lay between the leaves of the shrub. The soldier initially thought it was a dead animal, since it showed its guts and bones. They turned their lights away, having enough of this repugnance, when Gardner noticed something strange. The corpse didn't have the shape of a cow… it didn't have the shape of any other creature he had seen. The dimensions were… straight lines, almost symmetric, something expected from pieces of planes, what they were supposedly searching for. The piece of the corpse was actually long, getting thinner when it approached its extremities, covered by a bizarre gristle, instead of skin or leather.

A piece of a wing. Made of flesh, bones and blood.

The corporal, after shaking the spotlight for a moment, simply turned around and vomited.

"But what is this?" one of his fellow soldiers exclaimed, surprised.

They barely had time to take a better look on what they had found when another search group, next to them, screamed, waving their spotlights. It was certain they had found something else.

Gardner and the others rushed to them, panting. When they arrived, they illuminated something in the grass, which one of the soldiers pointed to, with terror: more pieces of flesh and bones, this time they had a form of an almost perfect cube, with pointed edges.

They snorted. A strong odor of blood spread over the entire field.

"We must warn Colonel Williams!" sergeant Terrance cried, forgetting that he had to keep low profile.

However, they were interrupted by another thing, even stranger: weird sounds that resembled groans came from the woods of tall trees, some meters away from them. The sergeant exchanged nervous looks with the others.

"One of the groups entered there..." he said, with difficulty to breath.

Gardner decided to take action. The concern for the safety of his fellows spoke louder than their fear as he and his men entered in the woods, trying to follow the source of the groans.

The march soon acquired a desperate atmosphere. Some of the soldiers tripped in the roots, only to get up and continue in the way. The corporal led the group, walking fast and firmly. He leapt over the obstacles and wished to save his colleagues from whatever terrorized them.

The woods turned into a glade and he fell on his knees.

Among the fallen logs and charred leaves, there was a pile of scraps. The same fragments, made of flesh, piled in a large heap of muscles of straight and precise forms, of many geometric figures. Everything was dashed with blood, even the ground. Some type of light illuminated the place, as intense as a searchlight, however Gardner ignored it for a while. On the other hand, he turned his attention to the soldiers, in front of the pile of flesh… they contorted, groaned, suffering. All of them had their faces covered by their hands, an action that reminded terror or repentance; but, when one of them removed the fingers for a moment, the corporal saw what happened to them… his fellow soldier didn't have eyes anymore. In their place, only dark, lifeless cavities. Burned.

All of them.

His knees started to tremble. The light continued to shine in the top of the nasty heap. However, a sudden impulse impeded him to look at that direction. And intuition told him that was the reason why his mates were blinded…

He listened to the steps behind him. The other soldiers arrived.

"Don't look to the light!" he screamed, placing his right hand over his eyes, "Under any circumstances, don't look to the light!"

However, some of his colleagues had listened too late, or simply they reacted by reflex, since their screams denoted that their retinas burned. Others managed to approach, taking heed to Gardner's advice, crawling to where he was. One of them pointed the rifle to the top of the heap. An expression of hate took over his face.

"Don't shoot!" the corporal warned, "We still don't know what this is yet!"

He agreed. It didn't seem to be a good idea.

Perhaps noticing the hostility of the soldier, the light was turned off by its source. The soldiers didn't react and waited. The choir of the wounded created a disturbing opera, until Gardner decided to get up, risking looking at the top of flesh. His eyes didn't burn.

However he saw something that disturbed him, perhaps even more than the pain he expected.

It was a young teenage woman. Blonde, shinning hair, almost completely covered by a mantle, silver like the moon. The outfit covered her entire body, showing only the bare feet, completely covered with red fluid, like blood. The crimson color also was prominent in her pupils, something completely unnatural. They stared at the sky, without blinking, like she was in a trance. Her face was serene, very light skin. When she opened her mouth, a feminine voice, very proper for her age, emerged, echoing through the glade.

"I am Metatron. The Voice of God."

Most of the soldiers didn't understand, and only looked perplexed to the figure. Others, knowing the meaning of that name, followed corporal Gardner and kneeled.


	3. Leviticus

**Leviticus**

_Nevada, USA, 1947_

Colonel Williams hated to use those elevators. He knew how important they were – the deeper the complex was, the lesser the chances of it being unveiled – however, for some reason, the engineers had a serious sense of "mole syndrome".

The descent ended abruptly, when the elevator landed in the pit. Whether it was the fourth or the fifth level, he didn't know anymore. He only knew he was accessing one of the latest levels of the facility, the one that had most things from the occult to be placed here. The doors opened and he entered the corridor.

With two other guards, a man wearing a lab coat awaited him; he was brown-haired and probably barely was in his twenties. Presumably a scientist, and a good one, from what the colonel heard. A true prodigy, he was ceding his knowledge to the most hidden projects of the American government. And this wouldn't be any different. Perhaps the most hidden of them all.

"Good afternoon, colonel," the researcher saluted him, sounding somewhat strange; unused to the underground, he didn't know what time of day it actually was.

"The situation demands an acceleration of the plans, Doctor Langley."

"I received your preliminary reports. I must say that what you wrote… intriguing, at least. Especially because of the religious symbolism."

"Have you arrived to any conclusion?"

"We will talk further in my room."

The corridor had a long row of metallic doors in the sides, without any indication of what lay behind them. Someone new, like Mr. Williams, would get lost rather quickly. But the scientist guided him, stopping at a particular door. He picked a tiny key from the pocket of his lab coat and used it to unlock the door, making way for the military man to step first. Then he turned the lights on.

"Please seat yourself."

It was a rather plain room. An auburn table in the middle, filled up with books, from which Langley conducted his studies. In the bottom there was an oak shelf with even more books, a writing desk, a typing machine, bed, chair and a bathroom. It looked like the occupant let his improvised house to go to use as a laboratory, just with more resources. This was probably also the place where he ate.

"You must be aware that the research you required from me is beyond my usual area of interest," the scientist explained, sitting down, "I have domain over math and natural sciences, sometimes I risk making an incursion on the social sciences. But mythology, religion, metaphysical issues… you gave me some weird homework, colonel."

"What have you found?" Williams didn't seem to enjoy small talk.

Langley picked a briefcase with the inscription "Top Secret", in red letters, throwing it to the colonel. While he took a look, the scientist abbreviated the contents.

"Mexico, 1531. France, 1858. Portugal, 1917. All those places have something in common to what your men saw in Roswell, colonel. A feminine figure, wearing a mantle, enveloped by a blinding light. Showing a young girl at fourteen or fifteen years, teenagers at this age. All those events are associated to the sky or to space bodies: a young girl with the moon under her feet, the sun falling over the Earth… something coming from the sky. Just like in New Mexico and those scraps we found."

"What are we dealing with?"

"The young girl identified herself as Metatron. It's a Jewish angel, even though it's not directly mentioned in the Bible, both Old and New Testament. The Voice of God, his messenger. The one sent to transmit the will of the Almighty to men."

"So..."

"This entity, whatever it is, is trying to transmit a message and it has tried for centuries. Even millennia. And we, now, have the chance to discover what is." He stopped for a while and completed his thought, "She is the biggest proof that there is someone there, outside. God, aliens, it doesn't matter. We are not alone. And, perhaps, we've been observed by those eyes for a long time."

The colonel sighed. Too much information in too little time, for sure. And yet, information that could mess with conceptions of life. His life and the life of billions. Dangerous information.

"You are forgetting a detail," he murmured, at last, "This young girl that blinded our men has the same body of Mary Morgan, the disappeared teenager from the region where the artifact fell. What do you suggest?"

"I don't know. Possession… who knows? The entity that came from the skies somehow possessed Morgan's body, using it as a vessel to communicate. There are precedents in the cases I cited. Anyway, we can't confirm anything yet. This girl must be studied as well as the pieces of flesh that were found. They probably composed the earlier body of the entity, destroyed at the fall."

"The most shocking thing was that Mary, or Metatron, accepted to follow our men and embark in the plane without any attempt to resist." The affirmation seemed to disturb the military.

"In spite of the initial and shaky contact, I don't believe she's against mankind, colonel. We should listen her. She has a lot to say…"

* * *

><p>The car, a black Ford, passed through the road in medium speed; Lorenz, the driver, restrained himself to not step too much on the gas, even though that road wasn't agitated. In fact there was no vehicle beside his. The sun reflected over the impeccable paintjob of the car, contrasted with the surrounding desert. Doctor Sohryu was in the passenger's seat, looking through the window as she questioned herself if she would have to spend the rest of her life in sandy environments; the Palestinian wilderness was replaced by the wilderness of the state of Nevada.<p>

At a given moment, in the hot afternoon without a single cloud in the sky, the landscape started to change. The silhouette of a gathering of buildings started to become clear in the horizon and, as they approached, the shape of hangars and a control tower became more clear… an air base, without a doubt. A few more minutes and their trip ended at the gates of the establishment, where a guard ordered the man to stop, exiting his sentry box. The colonel hit the brakes at the same time two suspicious soldiers slowly approached his car, to check their identities.

"Good afternoon boys!" Heinrich greeted them with a smile, as if he was an old friend.

"Are ya lost, guys?" asked one of the soldiers, chewing on his bubblegum.

"Nope. We know very well where we're heading. Can you let us go, please?"

The soldiers exchanged glances. Apparently, they didn't seem to believe what they had heard.

"Sir, this is a restricted military area!" one of them explained, "Please, go back if you don't want to get in trouble."

"Oh, I see," his smile disappeared, "I could enter only with an authorization, right?"

"Suppose if you really had something after this gate," the other soldier said, "You would need a _reeeeally_ important authorization!"

Lorenz sighed, while Lianna watched everything agape. Whatever the German would pull at that moment, his expression meant he didn't like to use it. She didn't know what to expect, since he was so unpredictable; she knew he could get a Luger and simply shoot the Americans. He just asked the guard, without losing his cool.

"Do you have a telephone line in this sentry box, don't you?"

"Y-yes…" one of the soldiers said, with difficultly, surprised by the fact the visitor already knew that.

The smile returned to Heinrich's face, bigger than before.

"Call 1-3-0-8-0." He gently asked.

The soldiers exchanged glances again, imagining what kind of bluff that could be. They hesitated for a moment, until one of them entered the post. Lianna and the colonel could see by the window the soldier picking the phone, watching carefully, because those soldiers probably thought that the old man could be a spy or worse.

From the car, Lorenz and Sohryu could also see the guard's face. It turned into a pale shade and he started to tremble, his mouth moving without nexus… then he murmured something and saluted – even if the person on the other side of the line couldn't see the salute. Afterwards, he walked to the car and, panting, approached the Ford's window by the colonel's seat.

"Forgive us for the trouble, sir. We will open the way. Enjoy your visit."

"Thank you, young man."

The gate opened and the vehicle pressed forward, the soldiers returning to their duties as if nothing had happened. Lianna looked backed and asked, confused:

"What did you do?"

"I asked him to call one of Truman's personal secretaries," Heinrich said, "With this, we obtained the authorization."

The archeologist was starting to get used with that kind of thing. The colonel's organization ought to be most powerful than any government of the world, it seemed. Or it just had right connections with the right people…

While the car passed by the hangars, the two of them could see a cargo plane landing on the runway. Sohryu recognized it quickly: she saw a similar airplane with the same serial number taking off from Tel Aviv some days ago.

It brought the Dead Sea Scrolls.

* * *

><p>"I will not admit it!" colonel Williams screamed, punching a hard thud in the table, "I will not admit the presence of Nazi sauerkraut in this base, and even worse, taking part in the operation!"<p>

In front of the American military, Lorenz was calm, followed by some soldiers. At his side, Lianna didn't react, it was starting to get usual; she didn't know what to make out of the entire situation, so she just observed aghast to everything. The events were becoming faster and faster, much more than she expected. But all she wanted was to see her daughter…

"The war is over, Mr. Williams," Heinrich replied, "This vocabulary is totally unnecessary."

"Who was the idiot that authorized the bandit's entry?" the superior asked.

"I couldn't do anything, he received direct permission of the White House!" justified the same soldier who talked on the phone.

"A man in your position should not call the president an idiot, colonel," Lorenz replied, with serene sarcasm.

Williams breathed hard, taking his hands to the face. He was forcing himself to gain control. He walked around the table and leaned against it. It was going to be a long night.

"I don't want to assume your role, colonel. I just want to propose a partnership between your government and the group I represent," Heinrich explained, "You have the machine, but you don't have the instruction booklet. And that's what I offer you."

"In exchange for the _machine_, isn't it?" the American deduced, in a bothered state.

"Where is the girl?"

"In quarantine. Isolated. Until we're able to deal with her."

"You shouldn't incarcerate her. If she's the one whom she says she is, I wouldn't be very happy with this treatment…"

Williams opened his eyes wide. What exactly did this old man know? He probably had more informants in the Armed Forces than expected…

Suddenly, the door of the room opened. A young man wearing a lab coat entered in. The only person that the colonel didn't want to see together with all these weird people…

"Are you the owners of the cargo that just arrived?" the newcomer asked.

"Exactly," Lorenz confirmed, "We weren't introduced yet…"

"Doctor Richard Langley," he shook hands with the ex-nazi, "Researcher of this complex."

"One of our best minds," Williams concluded that was hour to soften it, "He participated of the Manhattan Project."

"Yes!" the young man confirmed, saluting Sohryu with enthusiasm.

"Congratulations," she said, keeping a cold expression, "The weapon you helped to build killed my husband and two hundred thousand other people."

Langley shrunk. The atomic bomb was surely surrounded by infamy.

"Well, I couldn't help but to get marveled with the archeological richness of the material, even if I don't understand it very well…" he changed the topic.

"We still have to decipher its meaning," Lorenz said, glancing at Williams, "In this base."

The target of the affirmation, for a moment, seemed cornered. He lifted his arms from the table. Then tried to talk to the German, but ended going to the door, while saying:

"I need to make some calls!" and he exited.

The visitors, Langley and the other soldiers remained in silence, apparently without any idea to what to say. Only Heinrich had a confident expression, as if everything went just as planned.

"Are you working with the New Mexico's scraps, doctor?" the old man asked.

"Oh, yes, yes," he smiled, "For the time being, we are analyzing the consistency of the material, trying to reconstruct… the original organism."

"I believe the scrolls will help us to elucidate this point. They are the link, this I know. It can't be coincidence that two findings, that could change the history of the mankind forever, happened so close from each other… I would say simultaneously!"

"I trust your work. Do not disappoint us!"

Langley nodded, a bit reluctant. After this, bothered by the heavy atmosphere in the room, he exited, signaling for the guards to follow him and they closed the door following suit. Lorenz and Lianna stayed alone. And she couldn't tell him this actually pleased her.

"Do you think you can decipher the message in the scrolls?" he asked.

"It's a harsh task. I will need to consult guides for the various characters there and, up to this moment, I identified seven. I don't know if I can do this alone, colonel. I would recommend the enlistment of more specialists, especially in paleography…"

"We don't have this luxury, doctor. The less people involved, the better. We don't want this getting to the public."

The redheaded breathed heavily. It gave her chills every time she tried to contest that man, but she didn't see many options.

"If those are the conditions, have in mind that the complete translations can take months. Even years."

Heinrich laughed, patting one of her shoulders and said, "You have three weeks."

So, he left her. She knew she wouldn't be seeing Minna so early.

* * *

><p>"You did well authorizing colonel Lorenz's entrance in the base in Nevada, Mr. President. Believe me, he is a man of trust. He will help you to guide your country's steps in this dark hour."<p>

Harry Truman, president of the United States, looked at the imposing Japanese man. He didn't know who had allowed his entrance onto the airplane, a Douglas C-54 that served as the 'Air Force One', the first official airplane to serve the president, and wasn't sure if he should order to shoot or to give a badge to the man responsible, if he were able to discover him. In spite of his suspicious looks, and his nationality made him even more suspicious, he was polite; he knew much more than a foreigner should know about American internal affairs. His superior, the former Nazi Lorenz, supposedly was a very powerful man. They seemed willing to help the government on the strange incident at Roswell… or it was an attempt of the Axis powers to reemerge and, until that moment, worked terribly right…

Even if Truman wanted to expel the Japanese man, he couldn't. They were flying. And, until the landing, no one knew what he could do if he refuse to comply with his orders. Anyway, the President was starting to believe in him.

"Sir… what's your name?"

"Rokobungi, Mr. President." the Japanese reminded him.

"Very well. Everything you talked about, about the scrolls in the Palestine and its possible relation with the incident in New Mexico… I'm Baptist. I have faith in God and this belief has been in my family for a long time. Do you understand that this theory may shake my religious conceptions… as well as from this entire country?"

"I understand perfectly."

"Are you Buddhist?"

"Atheist."

Truman blinked. To him, it didn't make sense someone not believing in God believing in the mysticism of those Dead Sea Scrolls, but he was afraid that showing this incoherence could cost his life.

"I believed that the greatest menace against America would come through communism and the Soviet Union… but could God be against us? Is the Doomsday next?"

"We still have to study the manuscripts and the girl found in Roswell to be sure of it. In any case, however, it is valid that you country has the means to defend itself. May you create subsidies for it. The organization that Colonel Lorenz and I work will act together with the United States. We are partners in the search for the Truth."

"But… What is this 'Truth'?"

Rokobungi didn't answer. Sighing, Truman turned his eyes to the stack of papers in his lap. Its contents were a law that the Japanese man brought to him, saying that was elaborated by the organization he belonged, together with American senators. He read the title again:

**NATIONAL SECURITY ACT OF 1947**

He had examined the document until the last final point. Among its measures, the act reorganized the Armed Forces, instituting the position of the Defense Secretary and created a new organization named Central Intelligence Agency, or "CIA".

It just needed his signature.

He looked at the creepy man a last time and, with a pen at his right hand, completed his role.

* * *

><p><em>In the beginning, there was in the Garden of Eden, the Fruits of Life and Knowledge...<em>

Lianna sighed, almost blacking out over her ample work desk, filled with open scrolls. More than a day of work had barely translated an entire phrase. Besides being given a harsh and extensive task, she could barely work having the diminutive deadline given by Lorenz, something absurd. And, to add insult to injury, she was an archeologist, her work consisted of field research and she wasn't much habituated to the underground installation, where she couldn't see the sunlight or the fresh air of the night.

Now a new burden was added to her back, when the door opened. Someone would talk to her and make her stop her progress, or lack of it. Her daughter seemed more and more distant…

"Who are you and what do you want?" she asked, without turning her head.

"Good night, doctor," answered a jovial voice, almost childish, "I came to see what you are doing."

Sohryu turned around, with a surprised face. _A kid, here?_ Without comprehending it, she observed the girl, a teenager of fourteen or fifteen years, who approached her desk and looked at the material with a curious stare. There was something… different with her and her pupils were the first thing she noticed: they were red. Though, she looked like an average kid though her hair was styled into two spherical buns worn on an angle on the back and sides of the head and her skin was pale. She wore a blue and white striped shirt under brown suspenders, pants of the same color and tiny black shoes. She could be the daughter of a guard or scientist, but it was very irresponsible to let her walk around in an ultra-secret military base.

"Hey, be careful, or you will rot the manuscripts!" Lianna said, concerned, taking some of them, "Who are you? You shouldn't be here!"

"But your friends brought me here. From Roswell. I hope those men who burned their eyes when they saw me aren't angry…"

The doctor jumped off her chair, knocking down a scroll. Trembling, she backed away from the girl, slowly approaching the door, as if she had seen a ghost.

"A-are you Metatron?" she asked, wondering if she could call for help before that _being_ tried something.

"Yes, I am. Your friend Heinrich took me out of that chamber and allowed me to walk through the base. Do not worry, doctor. I won't hurt you."

"What do you want?" Lianna still didn't believe that she wouldn't hurt her.

The entity in Mary Morgan's body directed her attention once more to the work desk. She examined the manuscripts for a moment, without touching them. Then, she turned to the archaeologist and talked, smiling:

"The Apocryphal Genesis. So it's true. They finally found it."

"Genesis?" the doctor narrowed her eyebrows.

"Yes. The true origin of this world. Different from what is written in your sacred books. The _lilim_ love to hear the facts through the mouth of those who didn't see them…"

"And did you see the Creation?" Sohryu turned around, more secure and interested, "Were you there?"

Metatron once more turned to the scrolls. She grabbed the one that the doctor worked on. Opening it, she read in a loud voice, as if the ancient mixture of language was the most natural thing in the world:

"In the beginning there was, in the Garden of Eden, the place where God abode, the Fruit of Life and the Knowledge. They were conceived in Eden by God, the ones who called themselves _Nephilim_, who, in many ways, were God. And through the Nephilim, he fulfills his will."

She paused to see if Lianna paid attention. The redhead was completely fascinated. Metraton followed:

"From Eden, came first the Fruit of Life. The guardian of this Fruit, named by God, was Adam. From Adam, who had sown the seeds of the Fruit, the first inhabitants of the world were born, and they were called Angels. They were perfect and eternal beings for their origin was from the Fruit of Life, but they were arrogant against God. Facing their insult, God imposed a punishment on the Angels. He sent from Eden the Fruit of Knowledge, for it to be fruitful. When the Fruit came from the skies its tree created roots in the world, and from the Earth, the Moon sprouted. And from the power that emanates from God allowed for the Moon to soar in the skies of the world, so that the punishment to the Angels would never be forgotten. The keeper of the Fruit of Knowledge was named by God as Lilith. And from Lilith, who germinated the seeds, a new life rose in the world: the fish in the waters, the birds in the skies, the antelopes in the plains, the trees in the field, the man in its species, image and resemblance of God. The generation of the Angels became accursed and were banished from the world, along with Adam, its creator. But, created from the Fruit of Knowledge, man also became arrogant, for thinking themselves to be as wise as God. The punishment that was laid down was a fog put over their eyes that did not allow them to see the Fruit of Life, still in the world. And without consuming it, man could never become perfect and eternal like the Angels."

Lianna sat down, almost without air. It was an expected reaction of someone who listened for the first time the _true_ story of Earth's creation, as told by a transcendental being who really understood the issue.

"The man," Metatron continued, "blind to the Fruit of Life, thus was stuck in its condition of man, incapable of advancing like the fish which became frog and the frog, lizard. But in its arrogance kept by the Fruit of Knowledge, man will find it, eventually, Adam and its lineage. And from the incoming war, man would finally contemplate God, the origin of everything in its glorious plenitude."

Metatron stopped, the manuscript had ended.

With a perplexed look, Sohryu let go and turned to the other manuscripts in the desk. That was just the first one. A mere timid incursion in real face of the Truth.

"This last part…" she said, gesticulating with anxiety, "About finding Adam and its lineage once more… is it a prophecy?"

"Yes, it is," the girl smiled, "A good part of Apocryphal Genesis is composed of prophecies. And here is where my mission starts. I am the opportunity of redemption given by God to humanity. The light to break through the fog that blinds you. I, Metatron, since the beginning of the times, came to show you, Lilim, the true way to find your Creator."

After sighing deeply, she ended:

"Finally they will hear me."


End file.
